


Boxed In, Boxed In (my own world)

by the_gaysian_agenda



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Gen, Jeongcheol centric but donut worry I'll get to other ships too, JunHao - Freeform, M/M, Mentioned SEVENTEEN Ensemble, My Hero Academia - Freeform, Seventeen BNHA au, Soonhoon - Freeform, Yoon jeonghan centric - Freeform, bnha!au, but 1A will be more background characters, jeongcheol - Freeform, meanie, momojirou, svt - Freeform, svt mha!au, they all have quirks, verkwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gaysian_agenda/pseuds/the_gaysian_agenda
Summary: Seventeen BNHA!au“Johnny, I bombed the practical exam. Have a little pity.” Jeonghan roughly tugs his hair out of its ponytail. Three bleached hairs cling to the tie, and his scalp twinges lightly.Johnny has been silent for the entire conversation. The past twenty-something minutes. The past three years. Johnny is a plant.“I failed the practical and I’m talking to a cactus.” he groans, falling backwards on his bed. He tries not to think about the tangles it’ll make in his hair. “I’m going to die alone and jobless.”





	1. foreward (just me tryna justify myself / bg info)

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeere we go! Jeongcheol is probably my main ship right now and I've been meaning to write something for agessss but then I was in Korea and got really busy anD THEN it was the olympics (I HAVE A CRUSH ON KIM YUNA. I HAVE SUCH A F U C K I N G C R U S H) so,,, uh,,,,,,,,,,, yea 
> 
> hope you enjoy my svt bnha!au !!

Thank you so much for reading! If you don’t care much for PC-ness (I hate that term, but I don’t have a better one), then feel free to skip! Also if you don’t care about brand/culture references I make, skip this chapter! It’s just an infodump/extra information. 

 

Uh, so I guess UA is in Korea or something? I’m,,, i’m really dumb forgot that UA was in Japan and not Korea, and so I ended up using all Korean brands/stores/honorifics. 

On the “-ah, -ie, oppa, appa” stuff, I would like to clarify that I’m Korean-American (Cali raised, anyone else?), and while I know only a little bit about all the controversy in the kpop fandoms about that in fic, I personally think it’s okay, as long as it’s used correctly? Does anyone have really strong opinions that you think I should hear? If so, please please comment/message me! I’d love to talk about it (honestly I’m so uneducated here and really,, I’d love to talk about this stuff!). 

 

Now on stores/phrases/a quick glossary (sorry I’m a little obsessed with kbeauty stuff can u tell):

Olive Young - _A really big “drugstore” beauty chain in Korea (at least in Seoul, I haven’t spent much time in other cities that aren’t rural Korea), think CVS met Sephora and had mostly skincare. They usually have popular Korean skincare, makeup, haircare, and sometimes snacks (yall i saw someone buy like ten bags of honey butter almonds once). I would live in one if I could._

Etude House - _A Korean makeup brand, known for their lip tints in particular. They have a lot of Japan locations, though._

Pony - _A Korean makeup brand head/celebrity. She does a lot of tutorials and has a lot of very popular products!_

Odeng - _A Korean fish cake soup, usually found in streetside booths. Served hot, it’s delicious!_

Boong-uh-bang _\- A Korean fish cake (not a soup). It’s fish-shaped and has red bean inside thin layer of dough. Also street food (and best served hot)._

Oppa - _Korean for “older brother”. Used by girls. In kpop fandoms, this term is highly sexualized, and it is often used between Korean couples, but at its core it’s used between siblings/friends._

Appa _\- Korean for Dad._

Names ending in -ie (Jeonghannie) - _Used as a casual familiar form of address, almost like a pet name? It has affectionate connotations (e.g. I’ll use this with my younger siblings/cousins)._

Names ending in -a/ah (Jeonghan-ah) - _Used as a casual familiar form of address, but less affectionate/cutesy than -ie (e.g. my grandparents/parents/older brother use it towards me). Still affectionate, though!_

 

I’ll add more as the story goes on! Thanks for reading my bulky note, and I hope you enjoy!

 


	2. jeonghans Too Cute To Suffer Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet JeongHoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i wrote 9 pages in like 2 hours this is unedited and i dont have a beta,,, im so sorry for d mess

Jeonghan stares at Johnny, eyes glassed over. 

He’s cute, he shouldn’t have to suffer like this. 

“Why do I keep fucking up?”, he asks. 

Johnny doesn’t reply. 

“Can’t I just have one good day?” his voice raises a bit, hitching on hysterical. 

Johnny, the little bitch, is silent. 

“Just because I’m cute doesn’t mean I should be dumb.” Jeonghan stops himself from rubbing at his eyes. Wrinkles. 

Johnny is still. 

“Johnny, I bombed the practical exam. Have a little pity.” Instead, he roughly tugs his hair out of its ponytail. Three bleached hairs cling to the tie, and his scalp twinges lightly. 

Johnny just sits there. 

“I’m _ balding,  _ Johnny. I’m in my prime and I’m  _ balding _ .” Jeonghan’s in the worst of puberty right now, but  _ excuse him  _ if he has excellent genes— flawless skin, whip-quick metabolism, great bone structure, and gorgeous hair. He can’t help but look good. 

Johnny has been silent for the entire conversation. The past twenty-something minutes. 

The past three years. Johnny is a plant. 

“I failed the practical and I’m talking to a cactus.” he groans, falling backwards on his bed. He tries not to think about the tangles it’ll make in his hair. “I’m going to die alone and jobless.” 

He won’t be alone. He has Johnny. 

Great. 

\--

Jeonghan doesn’t know how long he stares at the ceiling for. It feels like forever. 

(It’s actually exactly thirty-six minutes. He checks.) 

God, it’s been six days since he took the tests. From a little bit of research (that may or may not have involved sending pictures of his ankles to sketchy old men online), he’d found that UA had advertised there being six slots open to join the second year classes, but were planning for only one transfer into the hero course. Two hundred people had applied. 

It’s a one-in-two-hundred chance that he’ll get into the hero course— anything else, he doesn’t want a part of it. He doesn’t understand why anyone would  _ settle  _ for being in support. He appreciates the sidekicks and all, but that’s not for him. 

Jeonghan doesn’t settle. 

_ (His mother wouldn’t settle)  _

He’s had dozens of conversations with Johnny since then. 

_ (“I swept the written. I studied for months up until the test. I was  _ flawless  _ in the biology section.”)  _

_ (“Okay, I might’ve gotten a bit backwards in the moral and hero conduct part. But legal? Honey, I know it all. It might not be for golden reasons, but  _ damn, _ I’m good.”)  _

_ (“Johnny, my quirk is best around humans. Flesh-and-blood. People. Meatsacks. Organs. They had  _ robots _. Do they know how many psychological quirks they killed there, and mine?”)  _

It’s all added up to the same thing: the exam administrators have massive sticks up their asses and need to jack off and finish. The practical is so impractical that it causes headaches that not even Jeonghan can cure. 

Robots?  _ Really? _

In the end, Jeonghan was flawless in the written portions. He’s studied the human body inside and out, dissected legal clauses and surgical operations, and  _ worked his fine ass off  _ to know the most he can. He needs to. 

But in the physical testing, he… he wasn’t good enough. Not nearly enough. 

_ “Ugh, John-n-n-n-y. I should’ve been  _ fine. _ If I’d studied more robotics— if they were close enough to sentient— if they’d been  _ human _ — aarrrg.”  _

The physical examination had been bad enough (Jeonghan doesn’t have super strength, an extra pair of arms, or even twenty-six extremely muscled toes). He isn’t particularly outstanding with weightlifting, running, throwing, or anything useful. (But he  _ is _ flexible. And he advertises it to wrinkly men online for cash.) 

(He can play basketball, though)

But the physical  _ testing _ — Jeonghan’s hair limpens thinking about it. He’s sure it’s losing its shine, that he’s going bald just remembering it. 

His quirk— his one limb, his one chance, was effectively useless. 

_ “Johnny, my quirk only works if I know what to heal and how to heal it! And I can only deal damage if I know the biological or chemical workings of my target! I couldn’t have beat that bot.”  _

_ “I’m not making excuses!”  _

God, he’d— he’ll end up accepted into support,  _ at best. _ Maybe something technical. 

_ (Or not admitted at all. Judges don’t care about hair.)  _

Jeonghan had only been able to take out less than a dozen robots, mostly by getting them to destroy themselves or crash in their chase after him. He’d spent the time in between evading the other robots and occasionally healing the others— _ his competition—  _ when he sensed that they were in any sort of danger. 

Beyond, you know, being crushed by robots. 

He can even bitterly recall, in sour detail, passing behind the boy with twenty-six extremely strong and squeamishly long toes as he held off a zero-pointer, and healing the roadburn and assortment of blisters on his feet. 

Toe-boy probably didn’t even notice. 

He wants to fold a million times into himself and get even smaller by folding his ribs in. He wants to scream at the entire goddamn UA campus and mute out Present Mic’s voice so that he can’t be any louder than Jeonghan. So that Jeonghan’s the loudest. 

The worst part is that  _ he could.  _ He could, so easily. And UA will never know. 

UA doesn’t know that Jeonghan could, with a move, tie Present Mic’s vocal cords in knots. UA doesn’t know that he could go to their little principal, to their hidden-but-not-really Eraserhead, to Mount Lady or Midnight, and with a teensy-tiny little pinch, snap their spines.  _ Buh-bye _ . 

But he wont. 

Johnny knows he won't. Jeonghan knows he won't. 

He’s applying, desperately, for UA, after all. 

“Johnny, I would be the  _ best  _ villain.” Jeonghan hauls himself off his bed, moving to put pants on. 

It’s two in the afternoon. But he’s sad and his hair is greasy. He deserves a day off. 

(The acceptances were posted outside of UA today with their assigned classes. He doesn’t want to see them.) 

Jeonghan stretches, his spine cracking in at least eight different places. He’s an old man now, balding and sore. And nearly white haired, if he’s keeping track. But grey dye is “in” right now, so it’s okay. 

He drags a brush through his (blond) hair, shuffling sock feet across hardwood floors. 

“Jeonghan-ah, is that you? What have you been doing all day?!” His father’s voice rings down the hallway. He winces. Time to move. 

Jeonghan ties his hair back and tucks in a button-down shirt, doing his best to look like he’s been awake all day, before striding down the hall into his father’s study. He hovers in the doorway, trying to stay as far back as possible. 

“Just going over cellular respiration again, Appa.” 

His father doesn’t waste any time. 

“Still? You should be done. Jeonghan-ah, your hair’s still long? And that  _ color? _ ”  __

Dammit. He should’ve worn a hat and pretended to be cold.  

(Last time he tried that, he was told that he was too sensitive, and it was “unmanly” to feel chilly. He really can’t win.) 

“I just wanted to review, to be completely sure. I’ve also been practicing hormonal manipulation.” 

He  _ has _ . Just not in the way his dad wants him to. He’s mostly been flirting with the guys in his grade on his phone. 

(And a few girls, just because it’s fun.) 

He’s already good at hormone manipulation. He should try it on his father, just to see how he’d react to being flooded with adrenaline. Or estrogen. 

“Then you should try adding more testosterone.” His father chuckles at his own joke, before turning back to his computer. 

Jeonghan’s dismissed, then. Masculinity jokes aside.

He spends the next hour in bed staring at his hair and an Eraserhead fanpage. He’s blocked and blacklisted everything related to UA applications and acceptances. 

He wonders how Eraserhead did during his practical. 

(He probably managed to do incredibly.) 

\--

Six in the evening creeps around. Jeonghan’s eyes are too blurry from staring at the same textbook page about carbon distribution to read the clock. 

But he knows it’s six. He can hear the lock click and he can hear keys clinking and he can hear his father’s footsteps. He can hear Jieun giggle and he can see her extinguishing a drop of sunlight in her palm— it’s her quirk. She can create light. 

Jeonghan’s room is dark. 

\--

A series of obnoxious knocks force him out of his chair. He dumps the textbook face-down, spine-open, onto his bed. He hopes it falls down and gathers dust.  

“Who is it?” He knows who it is. It’s the game they play. 

“Your favorite sister!” Jieun chirps from the other side. 

“Huh, I don’t remember a sister. Is she one-hundred centimeters tall with size three hundred feet?” He calls back. 

“She has an oppa with greasy hair and a greasier personality!” It’s his favorite part of the day, call him cheesy. 

“Does her  _ gorgeous _ oppa know that birds live in her eyebrows?” 

_ “Yah!”  _ Jieun shrieks, tearing the door open. “ _ Oppa!”  _ She tackles him, and sadly, she is not three feet tall. Jeonghan falls backwards onto his bed, a mess of dark reddish-brown hair on top of him. 

He knocks the textbook onto the rug. 

“How was today?” 

Jieun giggles, tossing her hair. “Can you see curls? Jisun braided my hair before we went to Olive Young!” 

Jeonghan quickly scans her face for product. She has (excuse him) Jeonghan’s flawless complexion, but her eyelashes— they weren’t that dark before. He looks a little closer, before she shoves his cheek to the side. 

“Hey! Stop doing that!” 

Jeonghan grins. “Are you wearing  _ blue mascara?” _

She throws a hand over his eyes. “Pony did it! And Jisun had pink! We matched!” 

“Jisun— isn’t her brother Jaesun?” He hums. He’d dated Jaesun for a few weeks last summer. He was nice. Jaesun had really liked to hold hands, but broke it off when he finally got the guy he’d been pining over since kindergarten to notice him. Jeonghan hadn’t minded.

Jieun nods, before squinting at Jeonghan’s face. 

“Wait, you’re wearing a lip tint! Oppa!” She pouts. “Is that my Etude House? And you made fun of me!” 

Jeonghan snorts. “No, I have my own. I have a  _ job,  _ you know. Plus, you have the worst shades and I’m not wearing a lip tint, it’s a balm. I didn’t go out today.” 

“You tutor! And purple is  _ fine, and  _ you should’ve gone with us!” 

“Tutoring’s a job! And no, when it’s neon it’s not.” He sighs. “Appa doesn’t like it when I go to Olive Young, Jieun. You know that.”

“But you could’ve supervised us! We had no guar- guardi- guar-di-an.” She pouts, her blue eyelashes catching the light. 

“ _ Jieunnie _ .” 

“Ugh.” Jieun tosses her hair to the side. “Oppa, did you eat? I’m hungry.” 

Jeonghan didn’t eat, but he thinks his father might’ve. 

“Did you eat with Jisun?” He untangles her bony spider-limbs from him, dragging himself out the door to the kitchen. There’s curry leftovers, cold on the stove. He clicks the heat on. 

“ _ Yes. _ We had odeng and boong-uh-bang. And roasted chestnuts.” She bounces around the stove, and Jeonghan has to tell her to  _ move away, Jieun. _

“So you ate street food.” 

“But it’s healthy! Chestnuts have protein!” 

“And boong-uh-bang has sugar?” Jeonghan sets out a plate. 

“Red bean! Beans are protein!” Jieun rambles, shoveling rice and curry into her mouth. God, next time he really is going to have to go with her, if she’s just going to eat street junk. 

To be fair, it  _ is _ summer. 

“Su-re. After you clear, shower and bed. No four-hour telegram calls with Jisun, you spent the entire day together.” Jisun nods eagerly (where does she get that energy, and can Jeonghan bottle and chug it) before blasting her dishes with scalding water and almost stabbing herself in the eye with a chopstick. 

Jeonghan glances down the hallway to the study. There’s light coming from under the door, but it’s silent. He can’t even hear keys typing. 

“Oppa!” Jieun peeks out of the bathroom.

He turns. 

“We went to UA!” she giggles, blue mascara smearing her undereyes like some god-awful racoon. “And guess what!” 

He swallows. 

“It said you’re accepted! Into the hero- the hero program? The hero track? The- the hero course! You’re accepted! You’re gonna be a  _ hero!!”  _ Jieun screeches, waving her toothbrush around. Jeonghan watches, pained, as she splatters the floor with toothpaste. 

_ He’s in. He was accepted. As in, he’ll be at UA next semester.  _

_ He got in.   _

_ I got in.  _

Jeonghan blinks, dazed. 

He wonders, distantly, if his father heard. 

The study is tomb-silent. 

“Go to bed. It’s late.” He smiles, pained. He might throw up if he moves right now. 

Jieun cackles and tears out of the bathroom into her bedroom, wet hair flipping side to side. 

_ He got in.  _

 


	3. cliche? yes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oops i bumped into you on my way to class" 
> 
> "oops you're hot but you're also an asshole" 
> 
> "oops i wrote too many cliches and made them gay"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your reviews nd kudos kePT ME ALIVE AND WRITING love yall 
> 
> (okay i feel like i should clarify: im from california no shade to southern accents tho)  
> (lmao i can't talk i sound like a total valley girl,, and by that i mean silicon valley girl aha ha)
> 
> also: yes, johnny was ISAC johnny. ya got me, demons

The first day of school has Jeonghan dazed, dismayed, and all-around confused. Not that he’d show it, of course, but _goddamn_. He has _absolutely no clue where any of his classes are_.

There are still ten minutes until he needs to be at homeroom, according to a little crumpled piece of paper with his schedule printed in faded ink, but the hallways have already emptied. Just a second ago, he’d been pushed and shoved against walls with people screaming _frosh_ and probably getting their shout-spit on his hair.

He shudders a little bit.

Jeonghan glances up and down the hallway. The ceilings here are obscenely high— he could probably throw a ball at full power and not hit the roof.

He looks down the hall again, starting. A grey-haired boy passes in a blur, slipping out of one of the gigantic doors and turning the corner.

“Wait!” Jeonghan calls after him, footsteps echoing. He skids around the corner, shoes slipping on the tiles. “Wait!”

The boy slips around another corner.

 _Damn._ He’s fast.

Does he not notice Jeonghan? He’s pretty much screaming and the halls are silent— maybe he has hearing problems?

“Wait— do you— wait!” Jeonghan charges around the corner after him, strengthening his thigh and calf muscles. That boy is definitely boosted by a quirk— it’s only fair if Jeonghan does the same.

Jeonghan grips onto the corner of the wall, trying to keep upright on the slick floors. He strengthens his outside thigh, trying to stop himself as he turns, and quickly discovers that he _severely_ underestimated his speed.

He falls, very ungracefully, around the corner.

Into an open door around the corner.

Into the hard-of-hearing boy around the corner.

 _Directly_ into gray-hair around the corner.

As in, _on top of_ speed-quirk. As in _chest-to-chest_ with Running Asshole.

Jeonghan stares awkwardly into his— _oh god_ —gray eyes. He’s so close that he can see where the contacts end and where his actual irises—very Korean, very dark black-brown—begin.

(he’s very distantly aware, somewhere in the back of his head, that he is probably crushing silver-hair into the ground)

“Can you hear?” Is the only thing that Jeonghan can think of.

The boy blinks his gray contacts.

“Yes? Are you the person chasing me down the hallway?” His voice is— well, it’s not what Jeonghan was expecting. It’s kind of deep and kind of throaty and kind of drawling and it kind of just _irritates the living hell out of Jeonghan_.

“You could hear me?” Jeonghan feels dumber by the second.

“Obviously, did Jun hire you or something?”

_What the fuck?_

“What the fuck?”

“Did you hit your head? Did Wen Junhui hire you?” Jeonghan watches as SprintDick’s pupils rapidly dilate and un-dilate, flickering behind his contacts.

“What the fuck, asshole?” Jeonghan can only repeat. “I just wanted to know where class 2A is.” Box-dye Grandpa raises one dark eyebrow.

“Then why are you still— still—” He waves at Jeonghan’s torso, and it’s only then that Jeonghan realizes that Asshole’s hand was pressed against the small of his back the entire time. And that they’re still on the floor. Practically hugging. Horizontal floor-hugging. Which is not really something that Jeonghan wants to do with Mr. I-can-drugstore-dye-my-hair-but-can’t-match-my-brows. He’s no angel, but he has standards (that mostly say _no matter how cute he is, if he’s a big enough asshole he’s off-limits)._

The asshole in question suddenly looks very uncomfortable, his eyebrows changing from smirky to furrowed.

_Oh._

It’s the I’m-not-homophobic-or-anything-but-I-need-you-at-least-three-miles-away-from-me-please face.

Jeonghan knows that face.

It’s not like he’s grinding against Hairgel Dick or anything, they’re not even doing anything very sexy ( _although_ , Jeonghan’s thirsty brain adds, _anything Assfuck does could be sexy)._ Jeonghan doesn’t generally care how close he stands to people.

But it looks like Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge does.

_He can work with that._

Jeonghan arches his back a _teensy, tiny bit_ and watches as Sergeant Fuckhead manages to look wide-eyed and squinty at the same time.

“Oops, sorry, dickwad.” He slowly lifts himself off of Vineyard Vines, letting his hair drag across the others' collarbones and chest, then pausing for a second to straddle his legs. “See you around.”

Jeonghan does his best to saunter off, but he’s pretty sure it ends up as more of a stomp.

Well, shit. He met an asshole, fucked with the asshole (in the less fun way), but he still doesn’t know _where the hell his class is._

“2A’s right here!” Grandpa Dipshit calls out from behind Jeonghan, from where he was very carefully keeping his back to, in that awful, throaty voice.

Jeonghan turns, just enough to see Greyhead in the corner of his eye. He tosses a chapstick in his direction. He needs it more than Jeonghan does.

Jeonghan just hopes he’s smart enough to get the shade. He hopes that it hits him in the head.

“Thanks.”

\--

“Class, this is Yoon Jeonghee—”

“Jeonghan.” Jeonghan corrects. _Jeonghee’s a girl’s name._

“—this is Yoon Jeong _han_. He’ll be joining 2A as a transfer this year. Let’s welcome him to our classroom.”

The class, twenty-something bored teenagers, mumble hellos.

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Jeonghee?” The teacher, Emi Fukukado or something like that, smiles very generously at him.

“My name is Yoon Jeonghan, I’m from Korea, and yes, my hair is dyed.” He tosses his (non-box-dyed) blond hair over one shoulder before sliding into the one of the two empty seats in the room. Is there another transfer? 

Jeonghan pulls out a pencil and notepad, and proceeds to tune out the rest of the introduction.

\--

It’s only when he hears Ms. Fukukado call ‘ _Choi, Seungcheol?’_ that he registers anything. _Anything_ being a head of the brightest hair he's ever seen pop up out from behind a desk. 

“He’s having another crisis, Ma’am.” The short boy with the neon pinkish-orange hair replies disinterestedly, staring down at his phone. Ms. Fukukado just sighs.

Jeonghan snorts. _Same_.

(Is he agreeing with Ms. Fukukado or whoever Choi Seungcheol is? He doesn’t know anymore.)

The abnormally large doors slam open, sending the hair (the short ones, not the long ones, it's shock but not electricity) shooting up on his neck. But a whip of his head and his classmates' lack of reaction tells him that this is normal, apparently.

Or they don’t care and they just want to die in this corrupt world. Which Jeonghan also gets.

A boy with a non-uniform-compliant green sweatshirt with the hood shoved up stumbles through the doors, mumbles a rushed _hi, sorry_ to Ms. Fukukado, flips Pink Highlighter off, and throws his bag and head down on the desk next to Jeonghan. All in one smooth motion.

So there was only one open desk after all.

Ms. Fukukado sighs again and turns back to where she was writing the schedule for the orientation ceremony. Jeonghan wonders how much she gets paid. Probably not enough.

Green Hoodie turns to look at Jeonghan. Jeonghan stares very determinedly at the board.

“Hey, what’s your name? Are you new?” He says, very unsubtly.

“Yoon Jeonghan. Yes.” Jeonghan hisses, turning his head just enough to make eye contact.

The first thing he registers is _gray._

Fuck.

Straight Asshole— _Choi Seungcheol—_ smirks at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i know that this chapter's super short but i'm planning for another one to be up by tomorrow!!


	4. seungcheols thirrrsstttyyyyyyyy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow two chapters in a week? wow 
> 
> also sorry guys I'll probably b dead for the next month final project season is kicking my ass
> 
> and IMPORTANT: lots of sexual references and swearing in this chapter proceed with caution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all your kudos/comments!! i rELISH every one (in the least creepy way)

Seungcheol is kind of having what the kids call “a shitty day”.

He doesn’t know if it’s just a bad day, his bad luck, or some bad holiday where couples do their bad couple-y stuff in public, but it’s pretty shitty.

He started out the morning with a bowl of whole-grain protein boosted cereal.

(It’s a pretty good cereal, he guesses. He’s dedicated to football, sure, but not to the point where he wants to eat protein-powdered everything. One of his roommates, a manchild named Jungkook, would probably eat it raw if he could. It’s an issue that they keep needing to bring up.)

Then, he’d biked to school, leaving early with the resident Muscle Baby, Muscle Baby’s cousin Wonwoo, and Muscle Baby’s cousin Wonwoo’s best friend and not-boyfriend Mingyu.

They always went early to go to either the library (Wonwoo) or the gym (everyone else) last year. This year would probably be the same, just with more homework.

But for some reason, this morning Wonwoo had gone with them to the gym. And after working out, he’d disappeared with Mingyu after the showers.

That was fine, Seungcheol just assumed that they’d gone to homeroom. Which was reasonable. It’s what any normal, _sane_ , person would assume.

Apparently, Seungcheol was wrong. And apparently, “homeroom” was now “the equipment closet with all the broken hula-hoops that nobody uses”. And _apparently,_ “going to class” was now “shirtless sweaty making out”.

Needless to say, Seungcheol is never not-knocking again. _Ever._

Okay, so he’d shrugged that off. That’s okay, nothing like the sight of two of your closest friends with their entire tongues in each other’s mouths. And on each others’ nipples.

(He is going to need eye bleach.)

Then, he’d gone to check up on his own cousin, Hansol. Seungcheol had gone to all the trouble of looking up Hansol on the register, finding his classroom, taking eight flights of stairs (four up, wrong way, four back down), only to be _completely disrespected._

Well, he found Hansol. In his classroom. Just as he slapped and borderline _groped_ some blond kid’s ass. Repeatedly. (Seungcheol could _hear_ the sound. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be sane again).

Seungcheol had decided to _get the fuck out of there_ and forget about ever trying to do anything nice for his first-year baby cousin.

After that, he’d been sure that he’d seen it all. But trust _Wen Fucking Junhui_ to ruin everything.

“Hey Seungche-e-eol, this is Xu Minghao, he’s from China, and my new boyfriend. We’re fucking now.”

Seungcheol had blinked at Xu Minghao.

Xu Minghao blinked back at him.

“Oh, and he doesn’t speak much Korean, but _damn_ does he sound good in bed. He makes these little moans and gasps, like he’s so quiet normally but then get him in the sheets— or actually, he’s into handcuffs and upright fucking too— I just learned that last night— but he also dances so he can _grind like coffee_ and wait I bet he’s into choking— Minghao baby do you want to get choked by da _-_ ”

Seungcheol had nodded slowly, then tried his best to walk away. Minghao looked just as confused as Seungcheol felt. At least it’s not just him.

“Uh, congratulations?”

But there really is no “walking away” from Jun.

“Hyung! I got you a stripper, I know you’re still single! I wasn’t sure if you liked guys or girls or both though so—”

Seungcheol runs.

This is not his year.

 --

Seungcheol’s just dropping off extra attendance sheets for the office when he hears his name.

“Seungcheol-oppa?” He turns.

It’s a girl. It’s a cute, short, girl with big eyes and a curvy figure. And nice hair, he guesses. Girls spend a lot of time on that stuff, right?

“Hi, uh, what’s up?” He grins awkwardly, standing in front of the copier with papers spilling out of his arms.

“Seungcheol-ah, thank you for your help, just put those in here.” Secretary Hyunwoo calls out. Seungcheol smiles apologetically at her, trying not to stare at her shampoo-commercial worthy curls, and shuffles the papers into Secretary Hyunwoo’s office.

The girl trails after him, picking up a fallen paper.

“Uh, Seungcheol-oppa, I meant to talk to you last semester but there was just so much drama and I just couldn’t—” She stammers.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, shifting from foot to foot. He still has time before homeroom, but, uh, he is so lost here. Is she okay?

“I— I really think you’re very strong and intelligent, and you care for others! I really admire that and so I was wondering—” Seungcheol watches her curl a curl around one slim, manicured, finger. “If you wanted to maybe go to a movie with me? I heard that Be With You is really good!”

Seungcheol blinks. Oh. _Oh._

“Um, sorry, I don’t like romance. Romance movies. Uh, not romance— no I’m— I’m fine with romances I just— movies— they’re just— uh, yeah. Sorry.” Seungcheol deadpans. He really doesn’t like those kinds of movies. They’re all the same: a poor but allegedly gorgeous girl throws down with some CEO hunk in a transparent button-down and then they get married.

“Really? Oh.” She blinks at him. “Alright. That’s fine.” Seungcheol watches her rush out the door, whipping out a large phone. She turns back to him, blinking hard. “You’re sort of an asshole. No wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.” She mashes a few buttons on her phone, smoothing her hair down. He can’t see her eyes. “Yeonwoo, you’ll never guess what just—” Her voice trails off down the hallway.

Seungcheol steps outside, checking the time. He has— _shit_. He has less than a minute until class starts. On the first day.  

Seungcheol books it. He vaguely registers someone screaming behind him. He hopes they don’t die and keeps running down the hall. He’s late.

It’s not super heroic, sure, but he needs to save his own ass right now. And there are about a million more capable teachers in the area. And a girl who probably hates his guts. Great.

“ _Wait!” Oh god._ That sounds like said girl. That he’d rejected. In the worst, most asshole-ish way. _He doesn't even know her name._

Why can’t he just fall into a hole and sleep forever?

Seungcheol tries to disappear around the corner, heading to class.

“ _Wait—”_ She shouts something that he can’t catch. “ _Wait!”_

He boosts his own speed a bit, risking a glance behind him. She isn’t in sight. He slips around another corner, listening as footsteps pound up, closer and closer to him. Seungcheol inches a bit closer to the doors— they’re so close. But they’re huge. There’s no way that he can get inside without her hearing him and probably pummeling the shit out of him.

He’s fucked.

The drum of feet on tile gets louder _much faster than expected._ Does she have a speed quirk or something?

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Seungcheol’s still in panic mode, trying desperately to pry the doors open without moving from his awkward spot pressed up against the wall, when he gets hit.

As in, knocked-completely-to-the-ground hit.

As in, _fuck-_ his-tailbone-is-going-to-hurt-for-days hit.

Seungcheol blinks. His head throbs, he notices. Interesting. That’s weird.

He’s on the ground. When did he get on the ground? And why does he feel so _heavy_? It’s like that one time in first year when Soonyoung thought it would be a great idea to see if Seungcheol would catch him. While wearing roller skates. In a roller rink.

“—an you hear?” The voice—it’s surprisingly deep for a girl, how did he just notice now?— is very close. Very, very close.

Seungcheol blinks, vision swimming. He blinks again. There’s a lot of _blond,_ right in front of his face. He squints.

It’s the prettiest girl he thinks he’s ever seen. The girl frowns down at him, and something clicks as Seungcheol ogles her strong jawline and brow bone.

Shit. _That’s a guy._

A long-haired, long-eyelashed, blond, guy with perfect pink lips. They’re not totally pink, though, more of a orangey-coral, but also kind of dark-ish at the tops.

Wait. Fuck. He asked a question.

“Yes?” Yes, he can hear. He’s just late and terrified of the angry girl. “Are you the“ — _gorgeous creature holy shit he can count his eyelashes they’re so close together—_ “psycho” — _shit—_ “chasing me down the hallway?”

Well fuck him.

“You could hear me?” The man above him blinks, his perfect pinkish-darkish-coral lips pursing into a slight pout. _Seungcheol is fucked_.

Wait. Shit. He would’ve remembered seeing this _specimen_ at school. Fuck. Is he the stripper Jun ordered? He’s definitely attractive enough to be one. But he isn’t— he’s in a uniform. Maybe Jun has a kink? He wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Obviously,” _Shit, why does he always turn into an asshole around strangers?_ “Did Jun hire you or something?”

Blondie cocks his head, his blond hair fluttering in a flawless sheet. Seungcheol can smell his shampoo. He opens those _gorgeous_ lips, eyebrows turned slightly up, big eyes opened wide, the perfect picture of something Seungcheol would end up breaking.

“What the fuck?”

Okay, that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Maybe he’s having an off day? Who says straight-up _what the fuck_ to a total stranger that they’d knocked down and pinned?

“Did you hit your head?” Seungcheol lets his eyes dart from his lips to his hair— it’s so _shiny_. He bets that it’s soft. “Did Wen Junhui hire you?”

God, he can just _imagine_ running his hands through it. Tugging him closer, pulling at it, weaving his fingers through it as they— _shit_.

“What the fuck, asshole? I just wanted to know where class 2A is.” _Oh_. So not a stripper, then. And he’s his age, too.

Seungcheol is suddenly extremely aware of _how close they are_ and how _his own_ _hand has slipped over the other boy’s waist, pressing him lightly against Seungcheol._ Fuck. Thinking thirsty shit is one thing but just coming on to this random (but gorgeous) guy is another. Seungcheol quickly pulls his hand away.

“Then why are you still—“ _On top of me? Pressing your chest into mine?_ “Still—“ He waves helplessly at the other boy.

 _Fuck._ The blood in Seungcheol’s head thumps a little bit louder and he can’t do anything but desperately hope that Mr. Gorgeous doesn’t shift a few inches down on Seungcheol’s torso. _Fuck._

Something in the blond boy’s face changes, though. He looks— he looks _predatory._

Seungcheol is hyper-aware of every move the boy makes, and he is _sure_ that he’s arching his back. Into Seungcheol’s chest. And the area below his chest. And the area below that.

He slowly, so deliberately that Seungcheol can practically _feel_ the time ticking past, raises his head into a sitting position, his long, blond hair brushing against Seungcheol’s collarbones.

Seungcheol’s only a little bit aware that _this incredibly attractive guy is straddling his hips right now, what the actual fuck?_

Said guy giggles. “Oops, sorry, _dickwad.”_ He lifts himself off of Seungcheol, leaving him painfully aware of the absence of anything on his hips or chest. The boy runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. His lips quirk up, eyes glaring down at Seungcheol. “ _See you around_.”

Seungcheol can only watch, paralyzed, eyes stuck to the curve of Blond’s hips as he walks away, as if he hadn’t just straddled, seduced, and then left Seungcheol sitting on the floor.  

“2A’s right here!” Seungcheol remembers, blabbing out the first thing that comes to mind.

God, that man could probably ask for Seungcheol’s head on a plate and fifty million dollars and Seungcheol would follow through.

Seungcheol catches a little tube thrown his way— chapstick? His lips are fine, why does he need chapstick? He stares at it, equally paralyzed and confused and a little bit extremely starstruck.

The boy tosses his head, staring down though his eyelashes at Seungcheol.

“Thanks.”

Seungcheol watches him slip into the room from his place on the floor. He doesn’t bother going inside. He just sits, pulls out his (thankfully uncracked) phone, and texts Woozi.

 _Help,_ he types, _I just met the most beautiful man in the world and he hates me._

He gets a little devil emoji back.

 _Fuck you,_ he sends. _I’m having a crisis._

A laughing emoji this time.

_Asshole._

Poop emoji.

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! love yall


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